The Only Refuge In Me
by Katie Havok
Summary: Tina slants an incredulous eyebrow at the striving-for-cheerful but pathetic flowers in the window boxes and the soot stains while keeping an eye out for number 9. She finds it sooner than she expects, this home as small and unassuming as the rest, though the door is a familiar shade of blue. / Tina shows up in London with some unexpected news...


**Warning for:** nothing really, just some angst and miscommunication.

* * *

The row of track houses are clean and fairly well-kept but still manage to exude an air of defiant poverty.

Tina slants an incredulous eyebrow at the striving-for-cheerful but pathetic flowers in the window boxes and the soot stains while keeping an eye out for number 9. She finds it sooner than she expects, this home as small and unassuming as the rest, though the door is a familiar shade of blue.

She grimaces to herself while straightening the collar of her jacket and smoothing a hand over her slacks, mentally gathering her resolve and rehearsing what she has to say before climbing the short steps and knocking briskly. The door is yanked open between knocks, revealing a disheveled but beaming Newt, his striped braces stark against the speckled white of his shirt with his wand tucked behind one ear.

"Tina," he says with unmistakable warmth. His eyes take her in from head to toe, brightening over the course of their journey before he clears his throat and steps back, swinging the door wide to allow her entrance, studiously avoiding her gaze while taking her jackets and hat. He sets them on a weathered coat tree before curling his hand into awkward fists and gesturing toward the house proper.

Tina precedes him down a short hall into a postage stamp-sized sitting room. Two mismatched armchairs sit angled toward the blazing fire, a small table laden with tea things and sandwiches between them. The wallpaper is faded and curled but cleaned, the floor gleaming with a sun-complacent shine in the light streaming through the curtainless windows.

There's a familiar postcard resting on the arm of one chair, and Tina smiles despite herself before hesitantly sliding into the chair opposite it.

Newt drops beside her, placing his wand on the table before looking at her through his fringe. "Would you like a cup of tea?" he asks, sounding stiff and unsure. "Or a sandwich? I have some biscuits in the other room, too, if you'd rather have those. Chocolate — I remember how _very_ much you like chocolate, Tina."

Her stomach protests the thought of food, and she touches it lightly before smiling and shaking her head. "Thank you, but no. I ate earlier."

He accepts the lie with a nod, measuring out a dollop of tea in a chipped cup before adding a lump of sugar and some cream. Newt eyes her from over the rim while taking a sip, his gaze flitting between her hair, her cheek and her lips before coming to rest on her fingers, his throat bobbing convulsively.

"Did you have an uneventful trip—"

"I'm sorry to drop in so suddenly—"

Tina holds her breath when they talk over each other, watching him watch _her_ before chuckling gently.

Newt sets his teacup down to meet her eyes. "It's no trouble," he murmurs. "In truth, I'm glad you came. I had hoped to see you soon, anyway." He reaches behind him, craning his shoulder, only to produce a handsome tome bound in pebbly blue leather, gold-foil letters shimmering across the front.

"My book," he explains, and he's watching her with a familiar hopeful longing that sends a pang through her chest. "As promised."

She takes the burden from him, reverently touching the name embossed on the front before cradling it against her breasts. "It's the greatest gift I've ever received," she tells him, flinching a little when she realizes it to be an inadvertent lie. Tina inhales the scent of new paper and ink before placing it in her lap and reaching for a cookie for lack of anything better to do.

Across from her, Newt makes a low, pleased sound before leaning back in his chair, visibly relieved. "I am so glad," he murmurs, picking invisible lint off his trouser leg. "I choose the blue color with you in mind. A little birdie told me, before I left New York, that it was your favorite color. It's mine, too."

Tina nibbles at the edge of the cookie, discovering it tastes like sawdust before quelling a grimace and laying it aside. "I'm glad," she murmurs, dusting off her fingers, "but...this wasn't just a social visit, Newt." His head jerks up to look at her, his fingers tensing, and she shows a sad smile while nodding. "I have something I have to tell you."

Newt leans forward, anxiety painted into every line and angle of his body. "Are you well?" he asks, the words trembling past his lips. "Is — are Queenie and Jacob well? Did something happen?"

"No, no, everyone is fine," Tina hastens to reassure him, cursing herself for a fool.

He accepts this with a hesitant nod before tilting his head to the side in obvious confusion. "Then... Tina, what—?"

"Do you remember," she rasps when her stomach turns threateningly, "the night before you left...the night we spent together." Newt gasps and Tina nods grimly, determined to see the course. "Do you remember what we _did_?"

Newt exhales shakily before leaning forward. He reaches for her hand with a boldness hidden up until now, determinedly meeting her eyes while rubbing soothing circles over the crest of her knuckles.

"Of course I remember," he murmurs before sandwiching her hand between his. "In truth, Tina, I don't think I could ever forget."

Tina releases a breath she didn't realize she was holding, fortified by his easy acceptance, and looks into his eyes before casting her mind back over three months and 6,000 miles, to the night before he left her alone on the docks. She loses herself in pleasant reminiscence until her stomach gives another lurch, burning bile crawling up the back of her throat.

Newt lifts her hand to grace first her palm, then her inner wrist with a kiss before falling to his knees. He kneels at her feet like a penitent, upturned face watching her anxiously when she swallows hard before leaning forward.

"I hate seeing you like this," she murmurs and takes his hands before sliding off the chair to face him. Newt makes a low sound while lifting his hands, hesitating as his upraised eyebrows ask for permission. Tina manages a nod and he sighs before gently wrapping her in his embrace, allowing her to rest her head on his shoulder.

"You're upset," Newt murmurs before turning his head to kiss her cheek. "I don't even know _why_ you're upset, just that you are." His hands cradle her shoulders when they settle onto their haunches, squinting at her face before touching her cheek with the back of his knuckles. "Tina, dearest...why did you bring up that night? And, perhaps more to the point, why are you here in my flat instead of in Paris helping your sister and Jacob set up their bakery?"

Tina feels her face fall at the assumed dismissal. "You don't want me here?"

Newt exhales sharply before taking her face in his hands. "That's not what I meant," he says, voice low but emphatic. "I am sitting here going through every possible scenario in my head, wondering why on Earth you're here, and you are being coy." He takes a deep breath before dropping his hands, his eyes going misty. "Is it too much to ask for a direct answer, Tina?"

She looks up to find him staring at her with a stubbornly set jaw. He looks at her through his hair, pursing his lips when she clasps her hands and takes a deep breath, digging deep to find the strength she needs before—

"I'm expecting," she blurts, not at all how she had intended to say it.

Newt rocks back as if struck, mouth falling open. Tina reaches for him, steadying him by the arm before going on. "I'm going to have a baby," she stays gently. "I realize this is probably not what you were expecting to hear, but I thought you should know."

He swallows loudly, reaching up to scrub his fingers over his cheek before blinking hard. "What — what do you mean when you say you thought I should know?" he squeaks, sounding as though he's been kicked in the groin (which, she supposes he _has_ ) and watching her with wide eyes.

Tina reaches for his hand. "I mean I don't expect anything from you," she murmurs, squeezing gently when he opens his mouth. "No, it's true. I wanted to do you the honor of telling you in person because it felt wrong to say it in a letter, but I don't expect you to be there in any capacity. Queenie and I have already come up with a plan." He again tries to speak and she shakes her head, avoiding eye contact when her overstressed nerves get the best of her. "You don't have to be responsible for this. Not if you don't want to be."

She falls silent, studiously avoiding eye contact as she focuses on his shaky breathing, the complacent ticking of the mantle clock, and the steady drip of a leaky faucet. The silence fills her head, and she opens her mouth to clarify her position twice, only to chew her lip until rough but steady hands reach out to her, clasping her wrists.

"Can I talk now?" Newt asks, and she flinches at his tear-clogged voice before nodding.

Newt shifts, moving closer to her on his knees before settling gentle hands on her shoulders. His thumbs rub soothing circles over her clavicles and Tina takes a deep breath before lifting her head, finding him watching her with wide, soft eyes.

"I'm sorry for being dense," he says slowly, feeling his way around the words, "but how did this happen, Tina?"

She scoffs, disbelief adding an edge to her words. "Well, you should know," she spits and shrugs out of his grip. "You were there!"

"Yes, I was," Newt says evenly, hands curling into fists on this thigh. "And I know that you were taking a potion. Your sister was _not_ subtle in her hints and I know you well enough to know that you wouldn't leave something like this to chance." He looks at her through his hair when all she can do is gape. "So, did you intend to conceive? Or was this just...happenstance?"

Tina looks at him with narrow eyes at the poorly hidden accusation before climbing to her feet. She paces before the hearth, agitatedly running her fingers through her hair as Newt watches her warily before whirling on him. "A bad batch of potion went out. Three or four other girls at MACUSA have been affected, too. Queenie used to brew it for us but after the government crackdown in '21, she had to stop. So we started buying it at the apothecary." She fiddles with her collar before sighing deeply, feeling all the fight run out of her. "I guess it was just lousy timing."

Newt rolls to his feet, dusting off the knees of his trousers before fussing with the tea set. "I should say so," he murmurs, the words interspersed with the rattle of China. He sets aside the teapot before straightening abruptly and narrowing his eyes. "Do you want me to be part of this child's life?" he asks slowly, "or do you expect me to walk away? Because I can do one but I honestly don't think I can do the other."

"I told you that you don't have to do anything," Tina bites out, crossing her arms over her chest while tilting her chin defiantly. "I had a feeling you wouldn't be able to handle it."

The sound of falling china startles her, and she reaches for her wand on instinct until Newt's warning sound makes her freeze. "Don't," he growls, hands curled into fists, shoulders rigid and radiating animal energy. "Don't you _dare_ presume to think you know how I'd respond. _Merlin_ , Tina, do you think so little of me that you've convinced yourself that I would walk away without so much as a 'by-your-leave', or that I'd force you to face this challenge alone?"

"I really don't know, do I?" she fires back, her own ire rising in the face of his stubbornness. "You were in New York for eight days, Newt — _eight days!_ And you couldn't wait to get away in the end, but not before a tumble in the sheets with me."

The color drains out of his face and Tina latches onto that with a vicious sort of triumph, ignoring the sting of bitter tears when she goes on. "So yeah, I guess I _do_ think so little of you because you've given me so little to go on!"

Newt takes a step back, hunching over himself as if he's just been struck. "I had responsibilities here, and I couldn't abandon them," he says in a small voice, wrapping his arms around his midsection and squeezing his eyes shut. "I didn't want to leave you, Tina. I thought I had made it clear before I left, but I suppose you think I failed on that front, too."

The words land like a punch, stunning Tina into silence. He takes a deep breath, holding it for a beat before exhaling roughly and straightening, overbright eyes meeting her own. "I'm going to ask you to leave now," Newt says in a shaky voice. "I need to attend to my creatures and it's obvious that you've made up your mind on this. I know you well enough to know that nothing I could say would change it." He swallows, and Tina flinches at the click in his throat, the way he's still so willing to _bend_ for her.

"I'll send you a check," he goes on when all she can do is stare as a single tear escapes his eye in a quicksilver runnel. He wipes it away absently. "The first of every month. It should be more than enough to ensure you're both comfortable, but if not then you know the appropriate channels to contact me."

"So that's it, then?" Tina asks in disbelief when he makes no move to take back his words. "You just going to accept it? You're not even going to try to fight me?"

"I was never much of a fighter," Newt whispers while scrubbing his eyes. "And I don't want to fight you, Tina. I never did. I just want you to be happy, and if removing myself from you and my — our — _your_ child's life makes you happy, then I suppose I'm happy." He tips his head back, and Tina tries not to stare at the bob of his Adam's apple, the sudden sense-memory of his skin beneath her lips making her shiver. "I just have to learn to be happy with this, as I've had to learn to be happy with everything else."

Tina swallows down the taste of defeat when her stomach churns threateningly. She takes in the unhappy lines of his body, his posture of abject defeat before reaching for him. Newt doesn't refuse her advances or shrug away from her tentative touch, accepting both stiffly, and she braves a wobbly smile before squeezing his arm.

"I don't want you to fight me," Tina corrects him as gently as she can manage. "I just want you to prove me wrong."

Newt's chin falls to his chest when tears, real tears, burst out of him. He raises his hands to hide his face but Tina is faster, sliding her arms around him and pulling him forward. He buries his face against her shoulder as he weeps, shudders working through him as she murmurs soothingly, smiling into his ridiculous hair until the cloudburst passes and he muffles his sniffles in the fabric of her blouse.

"Do you feel better now?" Tina asks him when he straightens and mops his face with a napkin before blotting her tear-stained blouse.

He looks away while shaking his head, his lips trembling. "No," he says in a damp voice and exhales roughly. "I don't think I'll be better for a while, truth be told."

Tina steers him to the armchair as gently as she can. He goes easily, as loose and pliant as a rag doll, and she frowns in consternation while pouring him a cup of tea. She casts a gentle reheating charm before doctoring it the way she knows he prefers and passes it over with her strongest smile before taking a seat.

Newt sips in silence, misty eyes gazing into the waning fire until she touches his arm. He starts violently at the contact, tea splashing over his hand as he turns to her, a furrow between his brows.

"Let's start over," she suggests and nibbles her previously abandoned shortbread in an attempt to regain levity. Newt watches her from the corner of his eye before turning away, mouth pulling into a grimace. Tina chokes down the treat before sighing and taking a deep breath, nervously clasping her hands.

"I really am so happy to see you," she begins slowly. "I wanted to tell you about my condition in person because I thought you'd have something to say about it." Newt angles his chin toward her, eyes downcast but obviously intrigued, and she uses his interest to propel herself forward.

"You're 30 years old now," she says gently, "and you aren't married. I assumed this was because you didn't _want_ to be married, so when you and I went to bed together, I thought it would be a one-time thing." She looks down at her hands, picking at her ragged fingernails when Newt raises his head to watch her, lips parted. "Then you promised to return to me and I didn't know _what_ to make of that so I convinced myself that you were running away _from_ me and that you didn't know what you wanted. I realize now that wasn't the case."

Newt pulls air over his teeth in a hiss. "You were," he says in a tight voice, " _very_ wrong. As I said, I had responsibilities here. Deadlines to meet and promises to keep. As much as I would have loved to stay with you in New York, I couldn't." He meets her eyes at last. "Surely you can understand."

Tina smooths down the front of her blouse, not blind to the way his eyes drop to take in the slight prominence of her belly. "I can understand that _now_ , but when I first found out and on my way over? Not so much." She rubs her still-churning stomach for a moment before sighing and leaning back, at last allowing herself to relax. "I owe you an apology, Newt. I thought I had it all figured out but I was wrong."

Across from her, Newt worries the cuticle on his thumb before looking up. His narrow-eyed expression and hunched postures give him the appearance of a surly, overgrown cat, and Tina smothers an unexpected giggle by delicately clearing her throat. He must sense it anyways, because his eyes turn into glimmering slits before he relaxes, sprawling over the chair.

"You _were_ wrong," he says eventually, speaking to his lap. "But at least you recognize it." He sighs heavily and meets her eyes. "Now what?"

"Now we need to figure out what we're going to do," Tina says without missing a beat.

Newt looks at her carefully, the skin beneath his freckles turning distinctly pink. "I — I suppose we could—"

"I don't want to marry you," Tina says flatly.

Newt flinches, and she takes a moment to review her words before sighing. "Mercy Lewis, Newt. I only meant that I don't want to marry you _now_. Not like this."

"Well, then perhaps you should have _said_ that!" Newt snaps before standing to pace before the fireplace, running an agitated hand through his hair. "Always with you, it is saying one thing but _meaning_ another! Is it too much to ask for you to speak plainly, Tina? I mean precisely what I say when I say it but _you_..." He leans against the hearth, shoulders tense when he laughs bitterly into the flame. "You talk out of both sides of your mouth so often that you should consider a career in politics."

Tina stares into the shimmering flames until the sting passes, before crossing the room to lay a hand on his back. "I'm sorry," she says softly. "I'm so sorry. You're right, I need to talk clearer with you but I can't always help it. I get defensive when I'm nervous."

She rubs tight circles into his back in the ensuing silence, feeling him begin to relax before she leans her forehead against his shapely arm, closing her eyes and baring her soul. "Please forgive me, Newt. I'm tired and I'm stressed and I'm scared to _death_ so I don't even know what's coming out of my mouth most of the time. The only thing I _do_ know is I want this to work. I want to make this work _with you_ , and I don't want you to run away."

Newt turns to grasp her forearms, his expression earnest. "If you truly wish for this to work, then don't push me away. Don't presume to know what I'm thinking or what I want. I've had enough of that in my life, Tina. I don't need it from you, too."

She reaches for him, touching the column of his throat and his lips before sighing. "I'm glad we're on the same page, at least," she murmurs, "but I meant what I said: I don't want to marry you. Not because of this. It's not a slight to you, Newt; I just always told myself that if I married, I would marry for love."

He sighs before ducking his head, speaking to their shoes. "I have never had such romantic notions," he admits, "and nobody expects them of me. But I know you, Tina, and I trust you to make the best decision for yourself. I will be here if that is what you want, in whatever capacity you'll have me."

"Okay," Tina agrees and chews her lip before blurting, "I'm not saying it's off the table entirely. I mean, it could still happen someday — right? Just...not right now."

Newt snorts gently before leaning his forehead against hers, a dawning smile brightening his face. "We're going about this all wrong, aren't we?" he murmurs. "We shared a bed, you fell pregnant, and now we are speaking of marriage when I haven't even courted you properly. Mother will be _scandalized_."

"Court me, then," Tina whispers while cupping his cheek. "Just know that I don't mind a little bit of scandal. It's the 1920's, people don't care about those things as much as they used to."

"And here I wanted so badly to do _right_ by you," Newt says, and closes his eyes while taking a step closer until they are pressed together from shoulder to thigh. "I'm so sorry, Tina."

Tina embraces him fully, at last, resting her head on his chest to listen to the steady thrum of his heart. "It's not your fault, but I accept your apology." He hums, and she tightens her hold on him before lifting her head and carding her fingers through his hair, a new lightness filling her from head to toe. "Now. What do you say we sit down, maybe over dinner? And discuss things. Because I don't know about you, but I'm relieved I don't have to do this alone. I was more afraid that you would turn your back on me than I care to admit."

"I could never turn away from you," Newt murmurs, lightly brushing her cheek with his fingertips before stepping back and taking her hand. "I have to feed my creatures, they're overdue to be settled for the evening. Then... I have leftover cottage pie. Would you like some? I'm afraid I'm not much of a cook but it should be eatable at the very least."

Sheer relief makes Tina's head swim, and she giggles before squeezing his fingers. "It's a date, then," she says, his shining face fracturing and blurring through her happy tears.

Newt makes to turn away before stopping, shoulders rigid. He takes a deep breath while pivoting toward her, his eyes hovering in the vicinity of her knees. "I can't promise it'll be easy," he says in a rush, "but I can promise that I will devote myself to you. I will be entirely yours, Tina, every second of every day — if that is what you wish."

Tina smiles at him, for him, charmed beyond words. "I can't speak to how easy it will be, either," she says, "I just know that, for now, the only place I want to be is here with you. Everything else can work itself out later." He looks up at her with familiar hopeful eyes, and she squeezes his hand. "I'm starving. Can't we get these creatures fed so we can eat?"

He gapes at her for a few moments before chuckling, and Tina realizes she hasn't heard that sound in far too long. It fills her with a new warmth and makes her very soul sing. "Feeding time then," Newt murmurs, "and we'll save the most magical creature of all for last." He flicks the tip of her nose gently with one finger, eyes laughing.

"Just give me some grub and I'll be happy," she sighs, though she can't seem to suppress her smile when Newt leads them toward the suitcase, his hand warm and steady in her own.

* * *

Thanks, as always, to Kemara for beta-reading. This was written as a prompt fill from my Tumblr, and if you'd like one of your own, you can send it to me at katiehavok. :)


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